Are you my Papa?
by Maxaro
Summary: Insanity did many varied and interesting things to people depending on what they'd gone through in their lives. Some turned into howling lunatics locked away in an asylum, while others became unleashed from the shackles of morality. Thresh had dealt with many kinds of insanity, yet he'd never come across someone who could look upon him and think that he might be their father...


**Papa**

 **AN: I genuinely can't say where the hell this idea came from exactly, but here it is, nonetheless. And you know what, I'm pretty damn happy with it. Thresh being his Thresh-y self remains probably my favorite thing to write; he is best boy and anyone who tries to suggest otherwise shall be charged and executed for treason.**

Thresh could tell she was following him, and that she had been for quite a while. She made sure to stay out of sight well enough whenever his blazing eyes turned in her direction, and he supposed he had to commend her for that, but it was impossible for her to hide the distinctly _alive_ echoing of her soul from a reaper like himself. On isles such as these, ones he called _home,_ the presence of something still truly living stood out like himself in a city of yordles.

Yet despite knowing she was there, Thresh merely kept walking. His lantern's eerie green glow was enough to both light his way and drive off any monsters lurking among the shadows of the forest, his reputation probably more well known here than anywhere else on Runeterra. Persistently, she continued to follow him.

Why she would do this or what she wanted with him, he really didn't know. Trying to understand her motivations, or simply figure out what they were in the first place was a challenge in itself with how afflicted her young mind was, and even for someone as adept at reading people as him it was hard to nail down anything specific that might be driving her.

Eventually, as loathe as he was to admit it, Thresh felt his curiosity grow too intense and he stopped in the middle of a secluded clearing not far from the mansion he'd taken up residence in after the previous owner's _unfortunate_ disappearance. Settling down on a moss covered rock he let his lantern float into the air above him, the souls writhing within it making its light twist in unsettling ways throughout the glade, his striking emerald eyes turning towards the woods surrounding him.

"I know you're there, little one," he called out towards the edge of the treeline. Considering the effort she'd made until now to not be spotted, he wasn't sure whether she'd reveal herself in the end, despite him declaring to be aware of her presence, but soon enough, the rustling of foliage caught his attention and he looked on evenly as Annie, the dark child herself, slowly walked into the light of his lantern. Clutched tightly in her arms was her teddybear, named Tibbers, if he recalled correctly, but there was no fear playing on her features. Instead, he'd have to say she looked _nervous,_ if anything, not afraid.

"You've been following my footsteps for quite some time now, young miss Hastur. Care to tell me why exactly? The Shadow Isles is no place for a child, especially this close to the Harrowing," Thresh said once Annie was only a few paces away from him. Surprisingly, calling her by last name seemed to make her perk up much more than before, as well as causing some of the nervousness shining in her large, disturbingly _not_ -innocent eyes to wash away. It was not a reaction he'd been expecting.

For a moment, the young girl seemed to mull over what words to use inside her head, face scrunched up in concentration, and when she finally spoke, Thresh had to admit the lack of her usual maniacal, yet childlike glee was surprising.

What was _far more_ surprising, however, was just what she said.

"Are… are you my papa?"

Had his features not been naught but a jagged bone mask wreathed in ghostly flames, Thresh knew his eyebrows would have shot into the night sky by now. He'd been asked many things during his long stay upon Runeterra, yet _this_ or anything _remotely_ like ithad _never_ been one of said questions. A part of him almost wondered whether he'd heard Annie right or not, or if this was simply some kind of strange joke she'd come up with, but her eyes, glittering in the light of his lantern, held only sincerity. This was a genuine question.

"My dear..." Thresh began as he got up off the rock and instead knelt in front of the dark child, "Just what would make you think that _I_ of all people could be your father?"

"Because you smell like burning, just like me, and... your head is always on fire," Annie replied slowly, downright _carefully_ even. Like she was trying to tell him about the most obvious thing in the world and what the convoluted formula for teleportation crystals was at the same time.

"If that's the case, wouldn't that fire mage Brand make for a more likely candidate? His entire form is utterly charred after all," he tried to reason, though it quickly became evident it was not what he'd call _effective_.

"No. He's... not special. Not like you. He doesn't feel... right. You do."

Just by the tone of her voice, Thresh could tell Annie was having a hard time explaining herself. He could practically see the cogs moving inside her small head as she tried to share her maddened thoughts with him. What was also painfully obvious was how nervous and unsure she continued to be. It was only the reason _why_ she was acting like this that eluded him.

"Brandy is just fire. He's not… _dark_. Not like me. Not like… like you." As she spoke, Annie clutched the bear in her arms even tighter, with Thresh staying silent this time, listening intently.

It would have been easy for him to simply dismiss her with a _no,_ but he stopped himself from doing as much. His curiosity had been peaked by what kind of thoughts had led Annie to believe he might be her father, and though he wasn't keen to admit it, something about her nervousness made him _almost_ feel sympathetic towards her.

"My papa wouldn't just be _all_ fire. He'd be dark too. He'd feel like _me_ … right?"

It was more a question than a statement and Thresh wasn't blind to the slightly _hopeful_ way it had been asked.

"That is indeed probable," he agreed after a moment of contemplation.

"That's how you feel. You feel… right," Annie continued, taking a small, tentative step closer towards the warden.

Thresh knew for a fact that he had sired no children during the years he'd been truly alive and ever since his death he'd forever lost ability to reproduce. And even then, he'd died long before Annie's real _parents_ had been born, much less the dark child herself, only pushing the familial connection even further into the realm of impossibility. Yet telling her as much felt… like it _wasn't_ the right thing to do,somehow. Maybe it was the fact that he too had lacked parental figures growing up that made him muster up this sliver of empathy from his long dead heart, or the fact that her mind had already descended into the pits of insanity at such a young and vulnerable age, but he didn't want to crush this faint hope of hers. Or at least not yet.

It was a very strange sensation to him of all people to _not_ want see someone broken from hopelessness and he had yet to decide whether or not he actually found these long forgotten feelings to be a burden.

"I'd like it if you were my papa..." he heard Annie mumble with her eyes downcast.

They were practically face to face now and Thresh knew that he needed to pick a path, so to speak. It wouldn't be the first time he experimented with giving someone an inkling of hope so that their eventual submersion into despair would be all the more satisfying to watch, but this was so very different from one of his usual _games_.

Annie was naught but a child still, and the thought of eventually breaking someone so young like he had so many others did not hold the same appeal to him nearly as much; if any at all. Her mind was already damaged from the dark magics she controlled, anything he could do would simply be insult to injury.

With an internal sigh, Thresh came to a decision. He was a monster; a reaper and collector of souls, a sadistic madman who tortured for fun, and someone who carried the reputation of a nightmare made manifest, but he would not put his horrific talents to use on a _child_. Enticing magic blood or not.

Whatever he did from this point onward, it wouldn't be to build hope that could later rip away, as… unfamiliar as it felt to him.

"You've put a lot of thought into this I see," the Warden finally said in his ghostly voice, breaking the silence that had settled over him and the dark child. He wasn't surprised when Annie seemed to take his words as praise, her eyes lighting up even in the dim glow of his lantern.

" _But I am not your father..."_

Six words. That was all he needed to say. It should have been as simple as breathing, but for some increasingly frustrating reason it just wasn't. For the first time in a very long time, Thresh could feel a headache begin to take root inside his head, a _luxurious_ ability he had been _unfortunate_ enough to not have lost when he'd died all those years ago.

The feeling of small hand wrapping around one of his large, gauntleted fingers broke Thresh out of his short reverie and his head slowly tilted downward until he was peering down upon Annie's head, her own eyes focused on his hand. She was standing even closer now, he also noted.

"You're cold..." Annie whispered without taking her attention away from the finger in her grasp. "It's… nice. Everything around me always gets so hot. Too hot sometimes. You don't though. You stay cold."

"Undeath tends to do that to a person. We're bereft of the warmth of life after all."

Slowly, her face turned to his, dark eyes meeting emerald flames dancing behind a pair of empty sockets. When she let go of his finger and instead started to reach her hand up towards his 'face', Thresh's first instinct was to pull back. Things had gotten out of hand and what had started as something to sate his curiosity and interest had made him feel things that he couldn't actively control. But he stayed still, letting Annie's warm hand touch his cold, hard 'cheek'.

Her hand lingered like that for only a few seconds before she pulled back, the flames around his 'head' curling like blazing tendrils around her thin fingers—clinging to them almost—before settling back into place. The sound of Annie's breathing and the eerie, distant whispers of the isles was the only sound that could be heard by either of them for a moment before the young mage spoke up again, though she only said a single word.

Asked a single hopeful question.

"Papa?"

XXX

With his left hand, Thresh guided his lantern in front of him, lighting the path as he walked slowly through the forest. He had projects waiting for him back 'home' in his mansion and his little _detour_ had taken much longer than he'd anticipated. His stride remained calm and collected, however. Some might even have have called it _careful;_ considering how he avoided stepping on dry twigs or low hanging branches that might disturb any creatures hiding in the underbrush. As for why his pace was so slow and seemingly precise, there were a couple of reasons. To an undead like himself, time meant very little after a while, with hours twisting into days and days into weeks until years began to pass by in the blink of an eye, and even then, Thresh had never been one to rush. He enjoyed taking his time, making sure whatever task he set out on was completed in the most _satisfying_ manner, and he was content with having his _projects_ wait for him a bit longer. His second reason was because he was in no mood to tango with some 'offended' beast whose territory he'd upset. Tearing one apart today would bring him little to no enjoyment and would not be worth the effort in the end.

The third reason, whoever, was much more apparent than the other two. It had to do with the young child sleeping peacefully in the crook of his right arm, her head resting against his coat with a worn teddybear in her arms.

Utterly mad as he already was, Thresh, annoyingly enough, could not blame how he'd gotten into this position on temporary insanity, no matter how tempting the option was. Something about Annie Hastur had simply gotten to him, and now here he was, carrying her soundly sleeping body through the forests of the Shadow Isles. Eventually he was going make sure to explain how he was not and could not ever be her father, but not now. Not tonight.

The only relief Thresh felt regarding the whole situation was that at the very least his headache had abated.

Finally exiting the woods surrounding the mansion, he made his way through the gates and across the courtyard, the noise his metal feet made against the stone leading up to the front doors being unavoidable.

He could feel Annie stir slightly in the crook of his arm, mumbling something in her slumber, but to his relief she soon settled down again, snuggling deeper into his heavy coat, one hand holding her teddybear against her chest while the other tugged on the coat's fabric.

"Had I not been undead already, I'm certain you'd be the death of me, my dear..." Thresh sighed tiredly as he pushed open the thick, wooden doors and entered his mansion. He did is best to ignore the way the dark child's soul was burning brightly with contentment as it would surely only make him more… confused about all the events that had transpired until now.

He didn't want to risk finding any _satisfaction_ in pretending to be her father after all…

 **AN: This is technically an award winning story, regardless if you choose to believe it or not. My school announced they were having a short novel writing competition while I was basically three quarters done with this story and I decided to turn it in as my submission. Ended up winning the whole thing.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little trip to crazy-land with these two nut-cases and please leave a review with your thoughts!**


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